


what's your story?

by notharry



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, look this is gay, there's quite a bit of angst :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-05-03 16:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notharry/pseuds/notharry
Summary: After he tells everybody that he isn't gay, Craig begins to look. Everywhere he goes, he looks.In a store queue, he admires some random guy from afar, then sneaks glances at the strip of skin revealed when his shirt accidentally rides up. He looks at the ripple of Stan’s muscles as he does a pull up on the door frame. He looks at the way Kyle’s ass pulls his shorts tight. He looks at Clyde’s long legs, whilst furiously pretending that the person he’s staring at isn’t his best friend. He looks at Kenny Mccormick - yes, Kenny, of all people - and his stupid mouth and kind of wonders how the infamously slutty blonde would be in bed.(OR the story of how craig slowly becomes gay for Kenny without really realising it)





	what's your story?

**Author's Note:**

> I love craig/Kenny so much

Craig blames it on Tweek.

 

It’s his fucking fault, right? Craig would still like girls if Tweek hadn’t waltzed into his life with his nervous twitch and caffeine addiction and wild blonde hair. Craig’s attractions would remain firmly where they should be.

 

But no.

 

He blames Tweek for the way he  _ doesn’t _ look at girls. When Wendy Testaburger had arrived to class with her top pulled low, revealing noticeable cleavage, Craig hadn’t even spared her a second glance. He tries watching some guy fuck a girl on his computer screen when he gets curious - or more, frustrated at his lack of reaction - and is even further annoyed when he hates every second of it. It’s not pleasant. The girl is curvy and fake, too many bends and twists on her body, and not to mention her voice. It’s overly high-pitched, every forced moan grating against his ears in a way which he knows it shouldn’t. According to the others, that type of girl is a dream, slutty and loud and willing. Craig’s not too sure why. Even when Bebe Stevens offers herself to him not-so-discreetly, he can’t think of anything worse than having Bebe Stevens on top of him. Or underneath him. Or anywhere, for that matter. 

 

He just doesn’t like girls. Sexually or otherwise. The only girl he can ever think of actually wanting to spend time with is his sister, but that really doesn’t count, because she’s related to him and he’ll have to spend time with her whether he likes it or not.

 

“So, like,” Clyde asks one day, when he’s just about had enough of Craig’s longing stares at the back of Tweek’s head, “what are you?”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you gay or something?” 

 

Craig’s never really considered himself as anything. Girls and boys both disgust him in general.  _ People _ disgust him. There aren’t many others who Craig would willingly spend time with, and that list is getting alarmingly smaller. So he says that in answer to Clyde’s question -  _ nothing, I hate everybody _ . 

 

“You can’t be  _ nothing _ .”

 

Craig just shows his his middle finger, as is his preferred response to everything.

 

…..

 

When he is fifteen and Kenny McCormick asks him what his story is, Craig just furrows his eyebrows and shoots the kid a look. His  _ story _ of what? Kenny says some strange shit, but it usually makes sense. 

 

None of his friends are on the bus today. That doesn’t mean that Kenny has a right to take Clyde’s empty seat and start up conversation, yet he still does. He sits uncomfortably close, pushing his skinny leg up against Craig’s thigh. 

 

“You know what I mean,” Kenny says when there’s no reply. He is without his orange parka today, his hair unkempt and wild, like a certain other blonde who Craig wills himself to stop thinking about. “Your gay story.”

 

“I’m not - “

 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he replies, amused, a grin curling on his lips. “When did you realise?”

 

“There’s nothing to realise. I don’t like anybody,” Craig replies stubbornly, and then he turns his head to look out the window. 

 

He spends the rest of the journey watching the world speed past and blocking Kenny out. If he wasn’t on the inside, Craig would get up and leave him to bother his  _ actual  _ friends, who are squabbling over something stupid at the back of the bus. But he can’t get out without climbing over Kenny. And that would mean acknowledging him. Kenny doesn’t move, either. He sits, serene in the silence, his leg bouncing up and down until they pull up at school. 

 

….

 

Craig is comfortable with that label for a while.  _ Nothing. _ Until one day, somewhere in the middle of his sixteenth year, he isn’t. His answer of ‘nothing’ evaporates suddenly. 

 

So, long story short, Craig discovers he is gay when he is sixteen, and it’s all Tweek Tweak’s fault.

 

Maybe his annoyance at Tweek is a little unjust. It just so happened that Tweek brought an end to their not-relationship because of the negative rumours being thrown around, and Craig had realised far too late that their not-real-feelings had transformed into something very real. Those feelings obviously weren’t returned. So Craig got over it, or so he thought.

 

But after telling everybody ‘nothing’, Craig begins to look. Everywhere he goes, he looks. In a store queue, he admires some random guy from afar, then sneaks glances at the strip of skin revealed when his shirt accidentally rides up. He looks at the ripple of Stan’s muscles as he does a pull up on the door frame. He looks at the way Kyle’s ass pulls his shorts tight. He looks at Clyde’s long legs, whilst furiously pretending that the person he’s staring at isn’t his best friend. He looks at Kenny Mccormick - yes, Kenny, of all people - and his stupid mouth and kind of wonders how the infamously slutty blonde would be in bed.

 

He blames Tweek for the way he  _ does  _ look at guys. Because if he hadn’t been turned off from girls at young age, maybe Craig would be fucking them like everybody else is. He could be doing normal teenage boy things instead of cherishing the glimpses he catches whilst changing in the locker room.

 

It’s not like he’s gay for any of the boys in his grade, either. No thank you. Firstly, they’re all straight, infatuated with boobs and girls and everything feminine. Secondly, they’re all assholes, and Craig doesn’t like any of them enough to consider fucking them. 

 

The fact that Kenny Mccormick is shirtless and giving him eyes from across the locker room can’t be blamed on Tweek. But the fact that Craig is staring back, unable to look away, is most  _ definitely  _ Tweek’s fault. If those stupidly real feelings hadn’t gotten into his head and convinced him that he was gay, then he wouldn’t be staring at Kenny like he is right now. And he wouldn’t react quite as much when Kenny smirks, that trademark mischief sparkling in his eyes, and turns round to give Craig a better view of his ass. 

 

This is Kenny, who has fucked more people than Craig thought possible. This is also the kid who has poked at him for years, mumbling immature things from underneath that fucking hood, and even when he’d ditched the coat, still been annoying.

 

But he seems to forget the years spent disliking him when Kenny looks back over his shoulder, taunting, bending over just a fraction to pick something up from the floor. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Clyde asks, looking in the same direction Craig is, searching for something important enough to stare at. Obviously, Clyde doesn’t think anything of Kenny’s ass, but he wouldn’t, would he? He’s not only one hundred percent straight, he’s also oblivious as shit. “What are you looking at?”

 

“Nothing,” Craig replies, eventually ripping his gaze away from Kenny McCormick, willing away that unfortunate heat pooling in his abdomen.

 

It’s clear Clyde doesn’t believe him. He drops it, though, because if there’s one thing he’s learned with being Craig’s friend, it’s that he doesn’t talk about feelings. Ever, really. The only time he’s ever divulged his current emotion state is when he told them his and Tweek’s sort-of-relationship had come to an end, and even then he’d spoken in a monotone.

 

…..

 

“Figured out your story yet?” Kenny asks a few days later, sidling up next to him at lunch. 

 

It takes Craig a very long time to remember what he’s even talking about. He doesn’t ever remember writing a story. English isn’t his good subject. He prefers physics, chemistry, math, things that have an actual answer rather than something up for interpretation. But he vaguely recalls fifteen year old Kenny asking his about some story, his  _ gay  _ story, and by the time Craig has remembered, Kenny has been swept away by the moving crowd. The place where he was standing is nothing more than empty space.

 

He bothers to think about his answer. His story is not typical - he was forced into a fake-gay-relationship and emerged with real-gay-feelings, however the boy he was supposedly in love with didn’t return them, and now he’s taken to staring at guys asses in the hallway. 

 

Why does he have to tell Kenny, anyway? It’s not like they’re friends. Staring at his ass doesn’t suddenly spark friendship between them.

 

Well, whatever. He’s got to figure out his shit as some point.

 

So the next time he and Kenny are alone, which is a considerable amount of time later seeing as they’re in barely any classes together, Craig tells him exactly what he’d planned. He says it in short sentences, quick bursts. It’s the easiest way to assemble his thoughts. Long, flowery sentences get jumbled up and come out wrong. It goes something like  _ it’s all Tweek’s fault. He turned me gay. I now stare at dudes and the idea of fucking a girl makes me feel sick.  _

 

Instead of being judgemental and weird about it like Craig was expecting, Kenny shrugs. One shoulder. Not even bothering to shrug with both shoulders.

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“What?” Craig asks. “You don’t believe that I’m gay?”

 

“No, no,” Kenny says. “You are definitely gay. It’s just not a recent development.”

 

“What?”

 

“Dude, you’ve been gay since you were, like, ten.” Kenny slides him a look, strangely serious. “Just not … physically.”

 

“Physically,” he repeats, shooting him a puzzled look.

 

“Sexually,” Kenny adds, drawing out the word, that familiar childish smirk reappearing. “You liked Tweek emotionally, but seeing as you were little kids when you got together, there wasn’t a physical side to the relationship. You never needed one.”

 

Craig feels like asking when Kenny became a therapist, but that’s too many words to bother with. Instead he goes for a dismissive, “Sure,” and then turns to walk away once again.

 

“Where you going, Tucker?”

 

“Class.”

 

“You haven’t heard my story yet.”

 

Craig pauses, not turning around. That means Kenny likes boys. That show he puts on whilst getting changed isn’t just to be a dick. It’s to attract genuine interest.

 

“You’re gay.” It’s not a question, instead more of a clarification.

 

“Not strictly.” Kenny huffs out a small laugh. “I’m not sure what you call it when you don’t really give a shit, but that’s me.”

 

_ A manwhore,  _ Craig thinks, but says nothing. Kenny’s story can’t be too difficult to guess. If he can have guys as well as girls, that doubles his dating pool, and then he’ll always have somebody to fuck. Never be dissatisfied.

 

Yet he still waits for Kenny to explain it, grounding out a, “Fine.”

 

“Fine what?”

 

Craig heaves a dramatic sigh, turning around with his eyes narrowed. “What’s your story?”

 

Kenny grins. “I always knew about girls. I’d seen half the porn in my brother’s stash by the time I was eight.  So, girls just got … you know. Boring.” Kenny’s smile fades. For a scary second, he looks uncharacteristically serious, but the grin resurfaces not long after. “I’d fucked half of the girls in our grade by the time I was fourteen.”

 

Craig bitterly thinks back to when Kenny would come in with a new hickey every Monday, and scowls. 

 

“So boys were like …  _ new. _ Exciting. Sucking somebody’s dick wasn’t anything I’d ever thought about doing, and suddenly it was.”

 

Craig doesn’t have anything to reply with. There are a few individual words floating around his brain, but none of them will string together to make a coherent sentence. 

 

“Not to mention,” Kenny adds, “the fact that guys are so much more  _ up _ for it. Constantly.”

 

“Suits you.”

 

“Yeah, it does.”

 

“Did you like any of them?”

 

“Of who? The boys I fucked?” Kenny asks, then follows it with another laugh. Jesus. Craig can’t ever imagine giggling like such a kid for so long. It would tire him out. “No. Course not. I mean, maybe Butters, but not enough.”

 

“Butters?” Craig asks, wrinkling his nose. “What?”

 

“You know, half the time you act like you don’t care about anything, but I think you just don’t  _ notice _ anything half the time,” he says.

 

Craig lets the words settle in the air. It’s not true - he notices Kenny’s sideways glances and deliberate teasing in the locker room. He notices a lot of other stuff too, like Clyde’s longing looks at Bebe and Kyle’s uncharacteristic obliviousness when it comes to him and Stan. He just doesn’t care to dwell on it.

 

Inwardly, he’s glad he never noticed anything happening with Butters and Kenny. The idea sort of annoys him.

 

So he just fixes Kenny with a blank stare, replying with a few words. “I guess so.”

 

……

 

Kenny doesn’t come into school for the next two days.

 

Without him, gym goes stupidly slow, and Craig grinds his teeth together when he realises that he  _ misses _ the sight of Kenny’s ass and his flirtatious glances. 

 

…..

 

A few days later, Kenny finds him, scooting up beside him at his lunch table. He isn’t alone. Clyde and Token are sat opposite him, picking lazily at their food. Kenny doesn’t seem to care. He just says, “What’s up, Tucker?” as if they’re friends.

 

They aren’t friends. Kenny doesn’t seem to think that, however. He has no intention of moving, and joins in smoothly with conversation, making jokes that make Token and Clyde splutter with laughter. Eventually, Kenny starts to grate on Craig’s nerves, and he ends up snapping. 

 

“What do you want, McCormick?”

 

Feigning thought, Kenny hums.  “Not much. But now you’ve mentioned it …” His smile quirks, and he looks towards the exit. “A word?”

 

Craig doesn’t move. Noticing his unwillingness to get up, Kenny sighs dramatically, and says, “Well, I  _ could _ just say it here, but I don’t think you would want that much.”

 

“Why? What’s it about?” asks Clyde suspiciously, eyes flitting between Kenny and Craig, who have locked gazes and are staring at each other. Venom pools in Craig’s eyes; glee sparkles in Kenny’s. 

 

Visions of Kenny outing Craig right now flash before his eyes. He imagines the shock and horror on his friend’s faces. He can almost hear Clyde’s voice asking  _ dude, you like guys for  _ real?

 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Craig says quietly, standing up and following Kenny out the door.

 

He lets himself be dragged to the bathroom. All the way Craig’s wrist is encircled in Kenny’s grip, tugging him along excitedly, as if he’s got something interesting hiding away in the bathroom. Following Kenny seems to be a mistake. The second the door shuts behind them, Kenny tugs him down into a wet, sloppy kiss.

 

Craig is frozen with shock for a few seconds. Kenny’s mouth is hot and wet, not to mention unexpected. He doesn’t kiss back, but he doesn’t pull of either. Then once he regains clear thoughts, he shoves Kenny off of him. The kiss breaks with a gross  _ pop _ .  

 

“Dude, what the fuck?”

 

“Needed to do that.”

 

“Why?” Craig demands, wiping his mouth with his hand.

 

“I had a dream we kissed and I woke up hard.” Kenny shoots him a friendly grin, as if that is a completely normal thing to admit. “Just had to test the theory.”

 

“Obviously didn’t work.”

 

“Mhm, yeah, but we didn’t kiss for long enough. That was barely anything. In the dream, you were … well, eager. Different.”

 

“I’m very sorry I don’t live up to your dream expectation, McCormick,” Craig deadpans, although there’s heat crawling up his neck. “What makes you think I want to kiss you?”

 

“The fact you stare at my ass every gym lesson, maybe?” Kenny says sarcastically, looking immensely satisfied with himself.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Kenny closes the very small gap between them, grabs Craig’s hands and places them over his ass. Craig very lightly applies pressure, still uncertain about this whole thing, and can’t contain the arousal which sparks up almost immediately.

 

They kiss again, this time slower, less surprising. The last person he kissed was Tweek, and he doesn’t ever remember Tweek being this  _ forward _ , teeth biting into his lip and hands tugging at his hair. Kenny’s obviously had a lot of practice when it comes to kissing, so there’s no hesitation when he pushes himself up onto tiptoes so their mouths are better aligned. He kisses like he’s trying to win something.

 

And finally, Kenny decides that’s enough. He pulls away and looks down to where there is a growing bulge, only noticeable if you squint, but still there nonetheless.

 

“It worked, then,” Craig says, breathing ragged.

 

“Yep. Thanks for that.”

 

As a goodbye gesture, Kenny lightly punches his arm. Such a manly gesture. Ironic, considering he is leaving Craig’s lips kiss-swollen and his mind whirring. 

 

……..

 

“Happy seventeenth,” a voice whispers, hot, alcohol-laced breath sliding over Craig’s ear. It’s uncomfortable. He’s never liked people whispering to him, especially not when it requires getting this close. Kenny is tall enough to be able to reach his ear, but still has to lean up a little bit, and consequently has thrown an arm around Craig’s shoulders to steady himself. “Feel any different?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Wanna dance?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Wanna fuck?”

 

Craig blinks at that one. This party has been fairly boring, filled with nothing more interesting than usual, and he’s become tired watching everybody dance. However, it’s not unlike Kenny to craft dirty suggestions. Craig wonders what he’d been expecting when Kenny had sauntered over to him, eyes heavy from drinking and words slightly slurred.

 

Eventually, he musters the ability to shake his head. 

 

“You hesitated! That was definite hesitation.”

 

“Caught me unawares.”

 

Kenny laughs. His laugh is nice, sort of warming. “You sure you don’t wanna? I didn’t get you a birthday gift.”

 

“Neither did anybody else.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s because they didn’t  _ know _ it was your birthday. You told me. Remember?”

 

Yes, he remembers. He remembers telling Kenny quite a lot of things, actually, when he’d gotten a little drunk and sort of spilled half his life secrets to some scruffy blonde kid with a cheeky grin.

 

“Birthday blowjob, Tucker. Come on.” There’s a pause, in which Craig feels his body automatically stirring to  _ just _ those words. Maybe it’s Kenny’s voice, the way he drags out every syllable, sultry and purring. “I’ve been told I’m good.”

 

He thinks about it. Thinks about a blonde head in his lap, and thinks even more about the euphoric feelings he’s only managed to chase with his hand. What would happen if he said yes? Or is Kenny joking?

 

“I’ve got to find Clyde,” Craig replies, in lieu of no, which Kenny seems to accept without complaint.

 

“Last time I saw him,” Kenny says, “he was upstairs. You know. With Bebe.”

 

Kenny shoots him a wink and wonders off, unconcerned. Craig, despite claiming to need to find his friend, spends a couple of seconds staring at Kenny’s retreating back and wills the thought of his offer away, although the image of him on his knees is definitely one which sticks.

 

…….

 

“You still like him.”

 

Craig jumps at the sudden noise, turning on his heel to shoot the familiar face a glare. Kenny, for all of his enthusiasm, is eerily silent when he wants to be.

 

“Who.” He doesn’t ask it like a question, keeping his voice void of any interest. Hopefully Kenny will leave if Craig can’t provide endless excitement, go and piss off somebody else for a while. 

 

“Tweek.” Kenny smiles. “You still like him, don’t you?”

 

“No,” Craig says. It’s only half a lie.

 

A disbelieving glance is shot his way. Craig ignores it.

 

“It’s just a  _ waste _ , you know?” Kenny says. 

 

Craig laughs, not at all genuine. Yes, it was a waste. He wasted the majority of his life being judged for pining after some spaz, having caustic insults thrown at him, to get to sixteen and for Tweek to claim that it just  _ wasn’t working. _ Now Craig’s label of “spaz-fucker” probably won’t ever stop clinging to him, not until he manages to escape this fucking place where everybody knows everybody and no secret will ever remain a secret.

 

“You could say that,” he replies eventually.

 

“I always thought you would get married,” Kenny says absent-mindedly, as if his words aren’t putting strain on an already tentative subject. “You and Tweek. The wedding would have been fucking awesome.”

 

“We didn’t even make it to sophomore year,” Craig grits out. “Marriage wasn’t on either of our minds.” Then, remembering that he’s defending a relationship which doesn’t exist anymore, Craig adds hotly, “ _ I don’t want him back _ . Okay?”

 

In mock surrender, Kenny holds up his hands. “Whatever you say.”

 

………

 

They’ve been playing this game of staring for months. Craig can’t remember why he began taking an interest in Kenny’s ass, or the curve of his back, or the length of his legs, but it’s not an unpleasant sight. It’s not hurting anybody. 

 

_ It’s just a body _ , Craig had been reassuring himself.  _ Just an ass. _

 

Until it’s not.

 

It happens all at once, a rush of emotions which leave him staggering. Kenny laughs at one of his comments, and Craig does the stupid thing of looking at him whilst he laughs. And holy  _ fuck _ shit  _ Christ.  _ Kenny certainly isn’t unattractive. When he laughs, his mouth curls up, his eyes crinkle and flash. Craig’s never been one for stupid, insightful metaphors, but the freckles splattering the bridge of Kenny’s nose are stars, and his eyes are like the moon, and his face is the vast expanse of the sky at night. Craig’s always been a nerd for space, and suddenly he’s a nerd for Kenny McCormick’s face too.

 

The crease deepens between his eyebrows as he stares at the other boy, unable to quite rip his eyes away. He remembers Kenny’s face always being half-obscured by that orange parka he wore religiously all throughout elementary school, but even when he outgrew it, Craig never bothered to look at him up close. There was never really a need to, was there? The only person he was interested in at all was Tweek. Kenny was just another moronic kid, his only sticking title being  _ the boy who brought in some of his brother’s porno magazines _ . Craig remembers looking at the shirtless woman on the page and feeling sort of ill afterwards.

 

But now he’s looking. Quite a lot. Craig makes out a faint scar on the side of his lip, white against pink. There’s another small scar running through his eyebrow; Craig follows it up to his forehead, where a blonde fringe cuts off his view. He looks at the freckles. He looks at the dip and rise of his defined cheekbones. He spends a hell of a long time  _ looking _ , hoping that Kenny doesn’t notice.

 

“What?” Kenny asks. “Have I got something on my face?”

 

Craig blinks. “What?”

 

“You’re looking at me like I’ve got food on my face or something.” Kenny wipes his mouth with his sleeve and smiles. Craig hates how much he loves it.

 

“Oh. Right. You don’t.”

 

“So … you’re just staring?”

 

“I didn’t mean to.”

 

Kenny rolls his eyes and shoves a forkful of his lunch into his mouth. “I don’t  _ mind _ if you want to stare at me. I am gorgeous, after all.”

 

_ Yes, you are,  _ he thinks, but all he replies with is a stiff, “Fuck off.”

 

……..

 

_ An aromantic is a person who experiences little or no romantic attraction to others. Where romantic people have an emotional need to be with another person in a romantic relationship, aromantics are often satisfied with friendships and other non-romantic relationships. _

 

Craig reads the article bitterly. He recalls Kenny’s stumbling explanation of how he’s not a fan of  _ feelings _ , because they’re too messy. Or something like that. Craig was more aware of the way his lips move as he talks. 

 

Fuck.

 

…….

 

Their second kiss comes with a whole bunch of nasty surprises. Firstly, Craig vomits almost immediately afterwards, courtesy of the tequila. Secondly, Stan Marsh just happens to be in the same upstairs bedroom and sees all of it. Of course, he cannot keep his mouth shut even if he wanted to, so by the next morning the entire population of South Park know.

 

It was a nice kiss. Not overly soft or rough, just smooth and wet. Craig had marvelled at how soft Kenny’s hair was when he ran his fingers through it, enjoyed the warm fingers skating over his waist.

 

“Was it  _ that _ bad?” Kenny asks mischievously, sitting down next to Craig, who is sitting on the bathroom floor and wiping vomit from his chin. He knows he looks an absolute wreck, and he’s lost his hat somewhere. His hair feels oddly messy and wild without his hat.

 

Craig means to say  _ No, it was great, I want to kiss you again _ , but he doesn’t quite manage it. A long groan slips from his throat.

 

Of course, Kenny seems totally unbothered. For him, kissing is as casual as a smile or a handshake.

 

“I’m not kissing you again until you brush your teeth,” Kenny tells him.

 

“We can’t,” Craig says. “Stan … he .... he’s going to tell everybody. Clyde. Token. Jimmy. Cartman …”

 

“What? You don’t want them to know you kissed me?”

 

“No, I don’t … I don’t want them to know  _ anything. _ About me. This is not how I planned on telling everybody.”

 

“That you’re gay?” Kenny asks, having the audacity to laugh at his problem. Here Craig is - divulging his  _ issues,  _ in a very un-Craig-like manner - and Kenny is laughing. “Dude. You were literally  _ with _ Tweek. Everybody knows.”

 

“No, but they just thought that was a stupid ten-year-old thing. Nobody knows I’m actually … that I actually  _ like _ guys. Like fucking guys. Like getting  _ fucked _ by guys.” Craig lolls his head on the toilet seat, before remembering where he is putting his head and jerking it back. “They’ll think I’m gross. How many jokes is Cartman gonna make? Will Clyde even want to  _ be  _ my friend anymore?”

 

There’s something warm touching his cheek. Craig recoils before realising that it is Kenny’s hand, and he leans into it.

 

“Fuck Cartman,” Kenny says evenly. “And of course Clyde will be your friend. He’s been your friend since you were five. And if not …” Kenny runs his thumb over Craig’s jaw, tracing the bone gently. “Well, I’m here. We can be gay together.”

 

A laugh bubbles in the back of his throat. It is promptly cut off by the horrible urge to be sick, and he shoves Kenny’s hand away and throws up once again.

 

……..

“So … you’re gay,” says Stan.

 

Craig narrows his eyes at him. They are somewhat similar heights, Craig having that extra inch or so on Stan, but he probably couldn’t take him in a fight. Stan’s arms are filled with thick muscle which Craigs lanky limbs lack.

 

He’s not sure why he’s considering fighting Stan, really. All he is doing is stating a fact.

 

“Like, actually gay,” Stan adds. “You likes guys. And … dick.”

 

On second thoughts, fighting Stan seems like an appealing idea. 

 

“Yes,” Craig replies eventually.

 

“Oh. Cool. Um.” Stan furrows his eyebrows and looks at the floor, preparing his next words carefully. “How did you, like …  _ know _ ?”

 

“How do I know that I’m gay,” Craig repeats tonelessly.

 

“Yeah. Like, how did you figure it out?”

 

Great. He’s become the token gay kid to come to for advice with when stuck in the middle of an identity crisis.

 

That question sounds suspiciously familiar to Kenny’s question of  _ what’s your story? _

 

It is Tweek’s fault. And Kenny’s fault.

 

“I don’t know. I’ve got to get to Physics.”

 

“Oh.” Stan blinks and has to swerve out of Craig’s way. As he is walking away, Stan calls out, “Are you and Kenny together?”

 

Craig pauses. His mind jumps to images of him and Kenny doing  _ couple _ -y things. Holding hands, kissing gently, spooning, watching movies together and laughing at the bad acting. The idea sparks warmth in his chest.

 

“No,” he replies stiffly. “Bye, Marsh.”

 

……..

 

Craig makes the mistake of inviting Kenny back to his house after school to  _ study. _ There has been no studying so far. Instead, a few minutes after Kenny had settled himself on the bed and began flicking through his notes, Craig had leaned forwards and pushed their mouths together. The impact caused his lip to collide with Kenny’s teeth but the pain is forgotten, as Kenny reacted quickly, his hands jumping to Craig’s shoulders. The kissing is not soft at all. Craig uses his teeth to dig into Kenny’s chapped lower lip, tilts his head sideways in order to push his tongue as deep as possible. This marks their third kiss.

 

Any notes on the bed are kicked off; Craig leans back and tugs Kenny down on top of him. These movements are frenzied and wild, and Craig pushes as much as he can in order to take charge, but his enthusiasm is no match for Kenny’s experience. Kenny makes it all seem easy, jaw working almost languidly.

 

It’s satisfying to hear Kenny’s surprised groan when Craig shifts his hips and grinds upwards. The relief is instantaneous, and he can’t help but do it more, chasing the the friction.

 

“Studying, huh?” mumbles Kenny.

 

“Mhm,” Craig replies, hooking his legs around Kenny. The blonde pushes forwards to meet Craig halfway, a thrust that has their growing erections rubbing against each other through fabric. A gasp falls from his lips. Kenny, who Craig can feel is holding back a grin, does it three more times in quick succession, which ignites something deep inside him. They are rutting together like animals in heat, desperate for release, and Craig’s mind flashes forwards to what  _ could _ happen here ... 

 

Kenny’s slow thrusts pick up speed until they are nothing but a quick jerk of the hips, shallow and satisfying. Already, release is mounting. It’s been, what, two minutes?

 

His voice sounds absolutely fucking wrecked when he says, “Wait.”

 

Kenny slows to a stop, although he doesn’t move away. Their bodies are still so close that every breath Kenny takes feels shared. 

 

“I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” Craig says, ignoring Kenny’s satisfied smirk.

 

“Jesus, dude. Such a horny teenager.” Kenny pushes against him once more, then pulls back and undoes the zipper on Craig’s jeans.

 

Lifting his hips to help him take them off, Craig swallows in anticipation. He’s so  _ hard _ . Just from a little bit of grinding. 

 

“Okay?” Kenny asks softly, yet his voice does not match his eyes. They are burning and seductive.

 

“Don’t tease.”

 

Kenny rolls his eyes, dipping his fingers past the waistband of his briefs. Craig has the feeling that his warning will be ignored.

 

Just as Kenny begins to finally move his hand, thumb trailing over the head in a practiced manner, there is a noise from outside the door.

 

“Craig?” It’s Tricia’s voice. Fuck. She’s home early.

 

Kenny’s hand pauses and he shoots Craig an amused look. 

 

“You’re home early,” Craig calls back, hiding the shake of his voice. “There’s, uh, leftover pizza if you -  _ fuck _ .”

 

Kenny’s grip had tightened, only fractionally, but enough for it to send waves of pleasure through Craig’s body. He’s never struggled with keeping quiet before. Most days it takes real effort to speak above a mumble.  But Kenny is filled with surprises.

 

“What?” Tricia asks, puzzled.

 

“Pizza,” Craig manages. Kenny quirks his eyebrows in interest at the mention of pizza, completely nonchalant considering his hand is wrapped around Craig’s cock and driving him  _ insane. _

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You don’t sound -”

 

“I’m getting changed, okay?” he says, cursing himself at how strangled his voice sounds. Kenny kisses a smile into his cheek, clearly fucking thrilled at Craig’s state of ruin.

 

Eventually,  _ finally _ , Tricia leaves him alone. The second he hears the telltale creak of the floorboards, signalling her absence from upstairs, Kenny begins jerking him off with purpose. He is not gentle, but Craig does not want gentle. This is satisfying. Very satisfying. This easily outdoes the sloppy, quick handjobs Craig’s been given in the past, and he buries his face in the space between Kenny’s neck and shoulder to stop himself from moaning.

………..

 

Kenny skips school on Monday. Craig types out several messages -  _ where are you, are you okay, why haven’t you come to school - _ before deleting the typing and leaving it. That sounds beyond desperate and Craig has to remind himself he is  _ not  _ desperate, although something similar to desperation rises when Kyle says he hasn’t heard from Kenny over the weekend. 

 

But on the Tuesday, Craig half wishes Kenny had stayed home.

 

He comes into Physics - late, predictably - with his hood up. Craig resists the urge to roll his eyes, because he’d thought Kenny had outgrown the habit of hiding beneath his coat, but all amusement vanishes when he catches a glimpse of the exposed section of Kenny’s face. There is a bruise shadowing his right eye, so dark and ugly that it almost drowns the blue irises. There’s a band-aid on his cheek, but it’s not doing a particularly good job of hiding the cut underneath it. Even from a distance, Craig can tell that it probably needs stitches. In any other situation, it would be comical, just proving Kenny’s refusal to admit to having problems, but it is not funny now. Even if there was a gun to his head, Craig could not manage a laugh. His heart is hammering and his throat has closed up, he can’t  _ breathe,  _ how did he breathe before? 

 

The remaining twenty minutes drags. Every second feels like ten, every word feels like an essay. The second the bell cuts through the air, Craig is out of his seat, bag thrown across his shoulder and legs burning with the effort of catching up with Kenny. A few people scowl and moan about being shoved out the way, but there is one thing on Craig’s mind, and it is definitely not his asshole classmates.

 

“McCormick,” he calls breathlessly. “Wait.”

 

Kenny turns, hood still up. He smiles fractionally. For anybody else, that would be a comfort. But Craig’s grown used to the wide and toothy grin thrown his way. This feels like nothing, and Kenny might as well have ignored him.

 

“Hello, Tucker,” Kenny says. “How are you?”

 

“How am  _ I _ ?” Craig splutters. “I - you - how are you?”

 

“Wow. That’s the most emotion you’ve ever put into words,” Kenny replies, but his smile doesn’t surpass the same little tilt of the lips.

 

“Shut up. You … your face. What happened?”

 

“There was a disagreement,” he shrugs.

 

“A disagreement.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Craig takes a step forwards so they are close - a little too close for school, but he’s past caring about that - and puts his hand on Kenny’s arm.

 

“Skip your next class,” Craig instructs. Kenny raises his eyebrows a little but says nothing. “We’ll go somewhere. Back to mine. And talk about this.”

 

Something foreign flashes in Kenny’s eyes and he looks at Craig like he’s never seen him before. The discomfort of being watched isn’t as present as usual, and Craig doesn’t feel the need to recoil, keep his head down and walk away. He feels compelled to lean in and kiss away that smile. Feels like he wants to press his lips against the soft skin of his cheek. Feels like he wants to wrap Kenny in a suffocating hug until people start staring.

 

Eventually, Kenny sighs and rubs his eyebrow. “You don’t need to skip anything. Your grades will suffer and that will be my fault. Don’t let me drag you down, yeah?”

 

Craig glares at him. A few sentences float around his brain:  _ you’re more important, I care about you more than my grades, you don’t drag me down, I like you more than I like anybody else _ . None of them feel right. He settles with, “No.”

 

“No what?”

 

“We’re skipping.”

 

“Tucker -”

 

“ _ Kenny _ .” The use of his first name makes forces them both to freeze. It sounds overly familiar, which is strange, considering they’ve kissed and Kenny’s jerked Craig off about three times. Yet the use of his first name is alien and scary and sort of … nice. It sounds good, his tongue wrapping around the two syllables pleasantly. “We’re going back to my house. Nobody is home. We’ll talk about this. And if you don’t want to talk … then we won’t.”

 

“You’re being dramatic,” Kenny replies, but he says it quietly, with no real heat.

 

Craig gently presses his thumb against Kenny’s cheek, pushing the swollen area around his eye. A small hiss slips from Kenny’s lips, even from such a soft touch.

 

The urge to kiss him is there, but it is pushed far, far away. People are surely watching. This ‘thing’ with Kenny is something he wants to keep to himself, tucked up safely in his arms, away from the prying eyes of high school students. 

……….

 

Frequent handjob sessions coupled with long, interesting conversations leave Craig with a pleasant warmth simmering in his stomach. Kenny is officially a friend now, instead of an annoyance, but Craig can’t help but be dissatisfied with that label. ‘Friend’ is nothing. Kenny’s got a whole bunch of friends, friends who he would rather spend time with that Craig. That would never usually strike such a wrong note. If somebody doesn’t like him, fine.

 

But Kenny isn’t just somebody.

 

That realisation dawns on him when he is drinking and deep in thought. Alcohol and thinking are never a great combination, but Craig is bored. His Friday night has been so far filled with video games, jacking off and leftover pasta. The pasta wasn’t good and has left a gross taste in his mouth, so he thought  _ why not wash it down with vodka? _

 

This is why, he thinks belatedly. His thoughts are slow and trickling, and noticeably all about Kenny McCormick. And he can’t stop them.

 

He  _ likes _ him. Likes his smile; likes his hands; likes his face when he comes; likes his cheeky, stupid smile. _ Like _ feels the the understatement of the century, but it’s the only four letter word beginning with ‘l’ that Craig will touch with a ten foot pole. He likes Kenny’s fingers tracing little circles on his torso whilst they catch their breath. He very much likes the familiar taste of cigarettes on Kenny’s tongue when they kiss. Not to mention how much he enjoys running his fingers through his wild hair.

 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself.

 

…..

 

The first time they fuck, Kenny spends absolutely ages prepping him. It’s a good experience once Kenny works up to about three fingers -  the first two had been somewhat uncomfortable - and Craig is slipping off into a nice, dream-like state, thinking that the feeling of Kenny’s fingers in his ass isn’t something he would ever pass up. Sure, he doesn’t understand why the bottoms in the porn he watches are so  _ vocal _ , moaning and panting like they’re slowly being driven mad, but that is their job. Craig’s never been much of an actor.

 

There’s no acting involved when Kenny finally, after about ten minutes of fingering, slips a condom on and slides into Craig. It happens easily, but Kenny’s fingers are different to his cock. They are skilled and curling and prodding but his dick is blunt and big and …  _ big.  _ That seems to be about the only word Craig can think of right now. He’s never been fucked before, and it’s strange. Alien. Weird. 

 

He’s done research about sex and stuff, and Kenny’s surely had his fair share of experience when it comes to this, so he’s pretty confident everything will go well. Of course, the articles online - which ranged from overly professional to practically  _ porn _ \- never quite covered the intimate aspect of it.

 

This is  _ Kenny _ . Kenny McCormick,  _ inside _ of him. Actually  _ in  _ him.

 

Kenny pushes inside of him all of the way, hitching Craig’s legs up further so he’s almost folded in half. The burn is manageable. Not too nice. But it’s worth it to see Kenny’s brow furrowed and lips parted, a flush rising to his cheeks from the effort of holding back.

 

“Are you okay?” asks Kenny after a few seconds.

 

Once Craig has nodded his conformation, Kenny begins to move. It hurts more than before, despite the prep, and all Craig can do to take his mind off of it is lean up and kiss Kenny’s shoulder. He trails the kisses up to the expanse of skin on his neck, which is already sporting several faded marks from weeks previously, and gently bites his pulse point. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to be felt, and Kenny makes a strange noise low in his throat.

 

Kenny settles into a rhythm of back and forth. The feeling is new and still not  _ lovely _ , but it doesn’t hurt as much. Craig’s just about to say something when Kenny loses himself in a haze of pleasure and snaps his hips forwards. Once, twice. Craig laughs a little at his enthusiasm, about to make some comment, but whatever he was going to say is cut off by a loud, shocked groan. He throws his head back, abandoning the task of refreshing the hickies on Kenny’s skin. The third thrust had sent pleasure jolting through every nerve in Craig’s body. It feels insanely different from the slight discomfort of before. 

 

“There?” Kenny asks, still having enough composure to smirk down at him.

 

“Fuck you,” Craig says, digging his fingers into Kenny’s shoulder blades. “Do it again.”

 

He obliges, and  _ shit. _

 

Craig’s mouth makes noises without him even realising, tearing from his throat after every push, and Kenny’s dick seems to hit something inside him each time. His veins thrum with pleasure and he mumbles out curse words into Kenny’s neck, who has curled over him with his head on Craig’s shoulder. The skin against skin sound - which Craig never found particularly nice to listen to, until  _ now _ \- echoes around the room accompanied by the slick sound of the excess lube. Kenny had been insistent it only feels nice if there is no resistance, and who is Craig to argue? He’s a virgin and Kenny knows his shit.

 

“Never knew you could be - so - uh, fuck …” Kenny tries, but his control seems to be slipping. “So noisy.” His pace stutters, the deep and calculated movements becoming jagged. “Fuck, Tucker.”

 

“Are you gonna come?” he asks, voice hoarse.

 

Kenny grunts something, which sounds like _ think so _ . His fingers wrap around Craig’s cock, jerking him in time to his movements. The dual sensation pulls Craig over the edge, the slowly building pleasure overflowing suddenly until his toes are curling and he’s coming, coming,  _ coming  _ -

 

Kenny gasps when he follows, collapsing in a sweaty heap on top of Craig. Kenny is heavier than he looks but the weight is not unpleasant, more comforting than anything. Absently, Craig draws little patterns into Kenny’s skin, which is sticky and hot with sweat.

 

“Thanks,” he says. 

 

Craig isn’t sure why Kenny is thanking him, but he just kisses his shoulder in reply.

 

……

 

“I like you.”

 

Kenny pauses, looking back at Craig with fear in his eyes. “What?”

 

An ugly flush is creeping up into his cheeks. He can feel it. “I said it once. Don’t make me say it again.”

 

“You like me.” It’s not teasing, not happy, not gleeful, not at all  _ Kenny _ -ish. It is said blankly, void of anything other than shock. “Like …  _ like  _ like?”

 

“I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not good with … words.”

 

“Oh.”

 

There’s a long, pregnant pause. It is broken by noise from downstairs, the unmistakable smash of a plate and Craig’s mom yelling at Tricia for not being careful enough.

 

“It’s not a big deal.” Craig furiously battles the blush climbing up his cheeks. “Nothing will happen.”

 

There’s another pause, an uncharacteristic loss for words from Kenny. He can feel eyes on his face and Craig forces himself to continue texting, although Clyde is the furthest thing from his mind right now. All he wants to do is follow his admission with a searing kiss. 

 

He doesn’t.

 

“Tucker,” Kenny says, but that seems to be all he can think of to say.

 

“You don’t do relationships,” Craig reminds him. “And this …” He gestures between them. “This is just sex, right?”

 

After a painful silence, Kenny nods, although his eyes scream reluctance.

 

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

 

Craig blows him before he leaves, using all his recently learned tricks to the best of his ability. Kenny heaves a shuddering sigh as he comes and fists a hand in Craig’s hair. He looks at him as if he wants to say something, but decides against it. All he says is, “See you around.” 

 

Craig can’t help but feel like that’s a lie.

 

…..

 

It is a lie. Four weeks later, Kenny finally shows up again, but not to school. He shows up at Craig’s door when it’s dark, smiling weakly in greeting.

 

Craig feels the sting of abandonment and folds his arms. The urge to throw his arms around Kenny and kiss him out of his mind nags at him but Craig ignores that. Instead, he eyes Kenny skeptically and says nothing.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Craig replies flatly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kenny offers.

 

_ It’s okay. I forgive you. Come in. I’m happy you’re okay. _

 

“Good.” 

 

Maybe he’s being overly harsh, but Craig finds himself unable to care. Kenny had just  _ gone _ . Packed his bags and fucked off for a whole month. Worry had been gnawing at his stomach constantly. 

 

“Did you have a fun vacation?”

 

“I didn’t go on -” Kenny starts. He stops at the icy look in Craig’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to stay away that long. I shouldn’t have. It’s just … everything got bad.”

 

“Everything got bad,” Craig repeats.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You didn’t think to tell me?” Craig asks, snappier than he intended to be. “Or tell anybody?”

 

“It was a split second decision.”

 

“Right.”

 

Pauses really are horrible things, aren’t they? Craig isn’t sure where to look.

 

“I really am sorry.”

 

“Right. You’re only sorry now, though,” says Craig. “You’re only sorry once you’ve been called out for doing something wrong. If I’d just  _ let _ you fuck off, you’d come back and think everything is fine.”

 

“Tucker.” Kenny looks astounded. Craig isn’t sure where this horrible, oily string of anger is coming from. “I didn’t think. I just left.”

 

“Exactly.” Craig wills himself to calm down, but once his anger has escaped, it’s like trying to bottle mist. “You didn’t think. Think about it now, McCormick:  _ you left _ . Without saying goodbye. I thought you’d fucking died or something.”

 

“Craig - were you worried?” Kenny seems taken aback that Craig would care enough to worry.

 

“You’re fucking kidding me, aren’t you?”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” he mutters caustically. “ _ Oh _ .”

 

Before Craig shuts the door, Kenny says, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how you liked - like - me.”

 

“Hm. And?”

 

Kenny looks at him for a long time.

 

“And … I don’t know.”

 

Craig laughs. It is a bitter, nasty sound, something so unlike how he thinks he sounds that it startles him. Is this what feelings do to him? Make him an asshole?

 

“Right. Thanks for that. You disappear for a month, come back and tell me you  _ don’t know _ how you feel. Nice one, McCormick.”

 

“I -”

 

But the door is already slammed shut.

 

……

 

He sees Kenny at school that Monday.

 

Kenny smiles at him. It is half hearted.

 

Craig smiles back. It is strained.

 

They don’t speak.

 

……

 

Three months later, Kenny leaves South Park.

 

For good.

 

The first week back at school without Kenny feels horribly empty.

 

Craig stares at his food. He isn’t hungry.

 

“Do you know where he went?” asks Craig, trying to seem as detached from the conversation as possible, although there’s an ugly prickle of emotion in his chest. He feels as if he’s going to explode and yet he sits, blank-faced, hoping none of his friends notice.

 

“Nobody does. Tried asking Stan. Apparently, all they got was a note.”

 

“It’s sad to see him go,” says Clyde, tears thickening in his eyes as he stares at the empty seat at Kyle and Stan’s lunch table. “You know? He deserved better here. It sucks that … that he had nobody.”

 

“He had some people,” Token disagrees.

 

“He didn’t have anybody like  _ that _ , though. Kyle has Stan. They’re always going to be a pair.” Clyde sniffles, sounding like a five year old close to tears, but he manages to hold himself back. “Who did he have?”

 

Craig stares at the seat next to him which was usually Kenny’s go-to spot if he wanted to talk to them.

 

Craig tries not to think too much.

 

……

 

“I heard.”

 

“About?”

 

“About - about Kenny. He -  _ ngh _ \- left.” Tweek sits next to Craig. His legs have gotten long now. “I’m sorry. You were close with him.”

 

Tweek puts an arm around him, and Craig leans into it, trying not to think about Kenny at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
